I'm Tired
by Crimson.Haven
Summary: Marx x F!Kamui. Conquest Spoilers. "I'm so tired, Marx." "I know, little princess. I know."
**I'm Tired**

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 **SPOILERS FOR THE CONQUEST ROUTE**

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"Takumi!" Her indignant cry bounces of the walls as his Fujin Yumi fires a shot. Aimed and true, it never wavered in its path towards her. Hot lancets of pain skittered along her skin and then nothing.

She couldn't help but wonder where she was, the soft touch of comfort on her flesh. She snuggles further into the comfort, relishing in the cool darkness of her dreams.

"Wake up." A voice calls to her but she loved sleeping in, a habit her maids tried so hard to break. Her maids? Did she not have Suzukaze as her only retainer? She muttered incoherent thoughts, well wishes to the intruder to leave her be.

A chuckle was her response. Ah, it's mother.

"Kamui, wake up."The cool voice of the Queen rouses her to the waking world. She blinks once, twice, and a little more, hardly ridding of the slumber from her eyes.

It's morning.

The figure of her serene-faced mother sitting by her side was a sight to wake up to. "Hello mother." She spoke drowsily, stretching her arms over her head. The golden glow filters through the room, reminding her of a faint memory.

"It's morning now, child. You wouldn't want your brother Ryoma to wait." Her soft laughter makes the dragon child smile, "Yes, we wouldn't want him to nag me all day." Ryoma always sparred with her each morning but oddly, the memory never sat well with her. She remembered dark mornings, bleary cold skies. The harsh strength of a broadsword and the distinct curve of a shield.

Maybe she was still half-buried in her dreams. "Come now, your brother is not that harsh with you."

She pushes the blankets off her body, the feel of the futon under her palm was foreign. Odd, did she not sleep on a futon all her life? "He's always a slave driver, mother." She smiles cheekily, earning another peal of chuckles from her mother. "Well, hurry then child before he lengths the amount of time you both spar."

"Yes, yes." She makes her way to the bath, the ornate designs of Hoshidan culture engraved in every corner of her room. It was so odd to stand her, in the middle of home. So unfamiliar, so new but she knows she's lived here all her life.

She shakes the thoughts out of her mind and proceeds to prepare for the day. The glow of morning filters through the window at her side; the very color reminding her of someone. She's never met a blond man in her life, Takumi's was the lightest colored-haired man she could remember. She couldn't place a finger over the memory.

It was so hazy, so foreign. And yet, there is warmth and familiarity. The word 'big brother' comes to mind but she had only called Ryoma by such an endearment.

She turns to the reflection of herself on the mirror, a scar runs down her right eye. Ryoma was never too crass with his moves, it must be someone else who inflicted this wound. She remembers the wide dark eyes and the cry of pain from her lips. The continuous string of apologies to the bitter taste of isolation her perpetrator had sentenced himself to. She remembers the warm comfort of his arms, to the dulcet tones of his advice.

She remembers his warmth but not his face.

"Who are you?" She asks herself, a sliver of a name on her lips.

"M-"

No sooner her world bleeds to black and the racking pain breaks her back into reality. The incessant sensation of her wound numbs her body. She wills her eyes open, staring at concerned hazel.

"Kamui." His voice chokes, the sorrow running deep.

She remembers now, "M-Marx."

Raspy, her throat was so dry. Why did it hurt all over? She tries to find her blade, her Yato but only shards of her weapon are beneath her bloodied fingertips. She chokes on the loss of her legacy, the loss of her glory. It's not for naught, she tells herself. The Nohrian prince cradles her body against his own, sheltering her from any further harm.

She can hear the thundering cries of her companions, the harsh sobs of her youngest sister and Takumi's sinister laughter. Reality was a harsh world. She longed to be back in the dream but would that mean forgoing Marx?

"Elise, quick! Heal her!" Leon's frantic cry thundered in her ears. Above her, his young face was marred with worry. She never wanted her younger brother to look so distraught. Camilia too was in her own color of sorrow, purple looks frazzled from the recent attack. She tried to reach out to them, soothe them, tell them it was all right but her body resisted. She couldn't think straight, she was tired.

"I feel so tired." The arms around her tightened. She turned towards the familiar contours of his body, her nose pressed against the angled armor of his chest.

"Not yet, not this soon, Kamui." Her name is a comfort from his lips but his voice sounds so distant now. She could feel the chill along her hands, and so she brings them closer to her beaten frame. A thick warm liquid comes across her palm, ah, so that was it.

"I'm so tired, Marx." She lets a soft whimper escape her, the pain, the loss and the imminent future of them both.

"I know, little princess. I know." He sounded like a broken man, were they not so close to victory now?

"Would you take it against me if I sleep now?"

He choked, a sob perhaps, but he responded as best as she remembered he could, "Perhaps, but I would instill a greater punishment in our next training session out of spite."

She chuckles weakly, snuggling further to inhale the familiar scent of her husband, "I'll take that offer, my love."

A soft smile against his armor, as she felt a trickle of wetness along her cheek. _Ah, she was so tired._

"I love you." He whispers against her hair, hands grasping her frail body.

"And I to you." Her voice is much softer now, much calmer. A pale hand finds his cheek, brushing the tear descending along his jaw. "Thank you."

Her hand slips from its perch and she falls to sleep.

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 **Author's Note:** I married Xander/Marx. I regret nothing.


End file.
